The first wave is nearly gone now, the hand to hand struggle in the trench is nearly over and the reserves are creeping in.
But the third wave?
Four mines explode simultaneously. Scores of bodies are thrown in the air. Dozens are thrown down by the sheer impact of the air.
The moment has come.
"Africans! On!"
There is no shouting as they leap over the parapet, but the glitter of their eyes suffices.
The third wave breaks and flees.
"Forward, my children, forward!"
The cry of the officers runs along the line.
The men do not need to be told. The Germans have failed. Now is the counter-assault. Now they have a taste of their own medicine.